Switched Bride, True Luna - Chapter 44: Chapter 44

Emily
I didn’t sleep well and by morning, the ache behind my eyes hadn’t faded, and no amount of black tea or cold water helped.
I moved through the house in a quiet fog. If Logan noticed my silence at breakfast, he didn’t ask. We spoke only of the day’s schedule.
Then he retreated to his home office to make some phone calls. And I sat with my tablet, intending to review the gala coverage like any other damage control.
The article was buried three links deep on a Pack ally’s event recap page. I almost didn’t click it, but the headline caught my eye: Chloe Blackwood appointed as strategic consultant for the Titanfang Education and Advancement Initiative.
Her photo was pristine, of course. Carefully selected. Smiling in front of a Titanfang emblem I’d never seen her stand near.
I stared at it for a full ten seconds, unsure if I was hallucinating. Then I clicked through.
The appointment was formal, backed by Titanfang’s philanthropic committee. A minor branch, yes, but it still meant Pack funding. Authority. Access.
She’d wormed her way in.
I didn’t think. I stood and raced to Logan’s office. His door was partially ajar. I didn’t bother knocking.
Logan sat at his desk, sleeves rolled, fingers to his temple as he read over a report. He looked up the moment I entered, posture straightening in an almost imperceptible way.
“I assume you’ve seen it,” I said.
His brow furrowed. “Seen what?”
I tossed the tablet onto the surface between us. He scanned the screen, and I watched the shift—confusion, recognition, then tightly controlled irritation.
He picked up the device, tapped once to scroll, then set it down with deliberate care.
“This wasn’t authorized by me.”
“But it’s under your name.”
He exhaled sharply, standing. “Give me a minute.”
He stepped into the hallway phone raised to his ear, voice low as he spoke with someone—his assistant Carla, maybe. I stayed by the window, watching the breeze stir the leaves outside while my pulse ticked behind my ribs like a slow metronome.
When he returned, his expression had hardened.
“My stepbrother Reid pushed it through last week. It’s already been revoked.”
I nodded once. “Thank you for fixing it.”
“That shouldn’t have happened.”
“No, it shouldn’t have,” I agreed.
The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful. It hovered, restless and unspoken.
I turned toward the door. I could’ve left it there. Professional. Clean. But something snapped just before my hand touched the frame.
“Were you ever planning to tell me?”
He didn’t move. “I didn’t know it was finalized.”
“That’s not what I asked.” I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to. The question landed anyway, low and heavy between us.
Logan took a step closer. “Emily—”
“Do you plan to keep her close?” My voice cracked, just slightly. “In your orbit. At your events. Will you go back to Chloe when you’re done with me?”
“No,” he said, too fast to be reassuring.
The next words came out sharper than I intended. “It didn’t look like ‘no’ last night.”
He flinched. Barely. But I saw it. “I handled it,” he said. “It’s done.”
“And I’m just supposed to forget the part where I found out with the rest of the public?”
“I’m not the enemy here.” His jaw clenched, eyes flashing like a storm cloud briefly lit from within.
“I know,” I said, but it came out tired. Because I was. And then I walked out. Because if I stayed, I might have asked those questions I wasn’t ready to hear the answers to.
By the time I reached the office, the anger had cooled into irritation.
I didn’t slam doors or raise my voice. That wasn’t how things were done here—and more importantly, it wasn’t how I wanted to handle it either.
I smiled and nodded at Carla as I passed her desk and sank into my seat like nothing had shifted.
But something had. I could feel it.
There was a new crack between Logan and me now, hairline and fragile, but real. I wasn’t sure who had placed it there—Reid, Chloe or Logan himself—but I knew better than to ignore it.
The afternoon passed in paperwork and blissful silence. I buried myself in numbers, double-checking Pack reports and comparing fiscal quarters like they gave me some solid ground to stand on.
Just before lunch, an internal invoice hit my inbox.
I scanned it automatically—logistics for a supply shipment, marked urgent. But something felt off. The totals didn’t align with the quantities. And the header listed me as the submitter, but I hadn’t filed anything for that department in days.
My stomach dropped.
I pulled the original requisition from our records. The numbers didn’t match. The submission metadata listed Carla as the last person to open the document before it was sent.
And yet, here it was—my name, my signature, neatly attached to an error that could’ve cost us thousands. The whole situation gave me déjà vu.
I didn’t confront her. Not yet.
Instead, I fixed the mistake, forwarded the corrected version to the department head, and quietly moved the falsified draft into a private folder I’d started keeping with the Iris investigation. Just in case.
I could have called her out. Could have marched across the office and laid the evidence on her desk. But part of me wanted to know how far she’d go.
How far they would go. Assuming Iris was still pulling the strings here.
A shadow passed the glass beside me, and then Julian appeared, leaning against the edge of my cubicle with a coffee in hand.
“You looked like you needed this,” he said, offering the mug with a small, careful smile.
I hesitated a second too long before taking it.
“Thanks,” I said. My voice was even. Friendly enough to pass. Neutral enough not to invite questions.
He slid into the visitor chair beside my desk without asking, watching me over the rim of his own drink. “Rough morning?”
“You could say that.”
He nodded like he understood and said, “You handled it well. The invoice, I mean. Most people wouldn’t have caught it.”
I paused, keeping my expression still. “Word travels fast.”
He shrugged. “Carla’s not as subtle as she thinks. And some of us pay attention.” His gaze held mine for a second too long, like he was waiting to see if I’d blink first. I didn’t. It was a battle of dominance and I was born of Alphas.
“I appreciate that,” I said, because I couldn’t say what I was actually thinking. That everyone seemed to be against me in this place.
Julian’s eyes flicked to the closed door of Logan’s office, then back to me. “If you ever need a second set of eyes on anything… you can always ask.”
I gave him a grateful smile, just shy of warm. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Trust was earned and I wasn’t sure if I could trust Julian yet, based on the track record of assistants I’ve met.
He left a moment later, slipping away like he’d only stopped by on a whim. But I knew better. Everyone in this building had a reason for where they stood. For who they watched.
I sipped the coffee after he left. It was exactly how I liked it. Which only made me trust it less.
At the end of the day, I made a note in my files beside Julian’s name too. Nothing solid, just a question mark.